Till Death do Us part
by Schattengestalt
Summary: John plans his upcoming wedding and Sherlock is devasted at the prospect of losing John to someone else. Post-Reichenbach. Johnlock.


**Author Notes**: This story is an OS, which I just had to write, after I got the idea for it in the middle of the night.^^ I hope you are going to enjoy it! =)

**Warning**: There are mentions of past torture and sexual assaults in this story. It`s not graphic or explicit in the least, but if that bothers you, don`t read it.

**Till Death do Us part**

"The hall is booked, the Catering Service is hired and the guests are invited, but..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John paced around the flat, with a notebook in his hands, where he wrote down everything that needed to be done in time for the wedding.

The wedding!

Sherlock curled up in himself on the couch as he thought of that horrible event, that was going to take place in a couple of weeks. He didn`t want John to marry her. Her... Mary Morstan, a mediocre woman, with a dubious past and unable to fulfill John`s needs for danger and adventure. _"But she seemed to be able to fulfill his other needs, since he hasn`t asked for you again in weeks," _a mocking voice - that sounded unsurprisingly like Mycroft - reminded him.

As often as Sherlock tried, he wasn`t able to delete that annoying voice in his head and he had finally resign himself to live with it. Hearing Mycroft`s voice in his mind, whenever Sherlock made a mistake, wasn`t the most desirable thing in the world, but Sherlock would have gladly - or at least, with clenched teeth - moved in with his annoying brother, if it meant that John would still be with him.

Yes, he would even allow Moriarty`s men to torture him again and skin him alive, if it was what they desired, if it was going to stop John from marrying that stupid woman. Alright, she wasn`t stupid per se and Sherlock might have even admired her intellect, if she hadn`t stolen John from him.

_"If you hadn`t left him to believe that you were dead, you would be the one to marry him now, but you can`t expect him to halt his life and spend two years grieving for you, when there isn`t the slightest chance that you might come back. You should be glad that he is still talking with you," _the voice reminded Sherlock of his grave errors and he swore that he would send a huge chocolate cake to his brother, in case he had forgotten his diet.

Sherlock put an arm over his eyes and turned on his back on the couch. John was still rambling about some necessary preparations for the wedding, but Sherlock didn`t pay much attention to it. Usually, he loved to hear John talk, but it was hard to bear when he was planning his wedding and leaving Sherlock for good. _"Not different from what you did to him,"_ the gleeful sound of the voice was too much as Sherlock grinded his teeth.

"Shut up!"

He hadn`t meant to speak out loud, but John stopped his litany at once and Sherlock felt his brown eyes boring into him. At any moment now, John would tell him that he didn`t have to plan his wedding at Baker Street and that Sherlock should be thankful that he still wanted to see him at all, but that it was the last time that John had bothered to pity him. "Sorry, were you thinking about a case?"

The arm fell from Sherlock`s face as he turned his head towards John and stared at him. He still held the notebook in his hands and fidgeted with a pen, but John wasn`t paying attention to his notes anymore, instead his complete focus was on Sherlock.

Sherlock swallowed hard as he remembered a similar situation, when John`s whole attention had been held by him. It was the one memory, which had kept Sherlock going, when Moriarty`s men had wanted to play one of their crueler games with him. Whenever they had started to rip the remainder of his clothes away, Sherlock had fled to his Mind Palace and recalled the happiest moment of his life.

_Fast breathing. Trembling and sweaty hands. A dry throat. A cold fist clenching his intestines and making him feel sick. Sherlock was nervous._

_He would have almost laughed at the absurdity of it, if he hadn`t feared to sound hysteric and have a nervous breakdown. Obviously, he was able to keep calm when a gun was aimed at his head or even when it was aimed at John`s head - more or less - but it was too much for his nerves to do something so... mundane. People did it every day, everywhere and Sherlock doubted that they turned into a quivering mess, just because they planned to ask a simple question._

_He fingered the small jewelry box in his trouser pocket for the hundredth's time and only withstood the impulse to take it out and check its contents again, because he heard John`s footsteps on the stairs. It would spoil the whole surprise if John saw it now._

_Sherlock sat calmly down in one of the armchairs and pretended to read the newspaper as John walked through the door. "Evening, Sherlock. I have brought us Thai take away and they even gave us a bottle of wine, because you figured out that their new waiter cheated the register, when we were there the last time."_

_Sherlock only hummed in response and listened to John`s moving through the flat as he hung up his cloak and put the take away in the microwave - crispy duck and noodles for John and prawns in red curry with rice for Sherlock - and started to prepare tea._

_Sherlock flipped the page of the newspaper, without taking in anything at all as John rummaged through the cupboard in search of clean mugs. He would be able to find some, since Sherlock had taken the time to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen table. Hell, he had even hoovered the whole flat and done the laundry, although Sherlock couldn`t have imagined a more boring task to eat away at his time. Still, he had done everything, John normally did on a Friday or Saturday, since Sherlock wanted to have the whole weekend to themselves. Otherwise, John might insist on doing the household chores and that would take too much of his time away from Sherlock. At least if everything went according to plan and John didn`t flee the flat, because Sherlock had misinterpreted something._

_After all, it was one thing to go to bed with your flatmate for some time - ten months, four days and seventeen hours - and quite another to share your whole life with him. Still, John already shared his whole life with Sherlock and he didn`t complain - much - about even his most disgusting experiments, but..._

_Sherlock gnawed at his lower lip as he turned the page of the newspaper again to keep up appearance as he heard the whistle of the kettle from the kitchen. No one, except for Mycroft, knew about them. Of course, the Yarders had speculated about them from the start, but they didn`t know that the rumors had been true since the night at the pool. After John`s rather vehement denying that Sherlock and he were together - before it became true - and his insistence that he wasn`t interested in men, Sherlock hadn`t dared to try anything in public that might upset John. As often as his hand itched to hold John`s, Sherlock always withstood the impulse to take it. John had never made a move to tell anyone about them, although he had happily shared the news about his newest girlfriend, before Sherlock and he became a couple. Or maybe, John didn`t consider them to be a couple._

_Sherlock stared at the picture of a horse on the page, without processing what he was looking at. John could only see them as - what was the term? - friends with benefits and he would be completely shocked at Sherlock`s question and..._

_"Your tea."_

_"Thanks," Sherlock murmured as he accepted the mug and took a few large gulps, before cradling it in his hands to prevent them from shaking. The newspaper lay forgotten in his lap and Sherlock noticed John`s eyes flickering to the open page, before a sigh escaped his lips and he perched himself on the armrest of the chair._

_"What`s wrong?"_

_Sherlock`s head snapped up at the simple question as he met John`s worried gaze, but he averted his eyes a second later. "Nothing!"_

_Another sigh._

_"Sherlock, I might not be as smart as you are, but I see when something is bothering you."_

_A cynic smile curled at the corner of Sherlock`s lips. "How?"_

_"The flat is cleaned for once, the dishes are done and the kitchen table isn`t crowded with pieces of dead bodies, acids or bacteria cultures. You are also reading the sport parts of the newspaper and you have drunk your tea without sugar and milk, although you normally can`t stand it like that. So, something is bothering you and I want you to tell me what it is."_

_It was Sherlock`s turn to sigh as he stared at his mug and then at the newspaper. John`s choice to be observant couldn`t have been more mistimed. "I was just thinking."_

_A warm hand squeezed his shoulder, before moving up to his scalp and starting to play with his curls. Sherlock leaned into the contact as he felt his nerves relax at the simple ministrations. "I was thinking about us."_

_John`s hand stopped for a heartbeat, before continuing his adoring caressing again. "I hope you have decided that it`s about time to tell everyone that we are together and that you are mine. I would have almost slapped that idiot of a bank director last week, because he was devouring you with his eyes."_

_Sherlock felt the mug slip from his fingers, but he wasn`t fast enough to prevent it from falling down. The rest of the tea soaked the floor at his feet, but Sherlock didn`t pay it any mind as he progressed what John had just told him. Was it really possible that John had wanted to make their relationship public all the time and had held back, because he thought that Sherlock wasn`t comfortable with it? It sounded logical and even if it hadn`t, Sherlock was too happy that John considered them to be a couple to spare any thoughts for more trivial matters._

_Before he could think about it again, Sherlock dropped from the armchair to the ground and turned towards John on his knees. The tea soaked his trouser legs and something - a ceramic splint - dug into his shin, but Sherlock ignored it in favor of looking up at John._

_"Sherlock?" John breathed, nervousness evident in his voice, as Sherlock fumbled in his trouser pocket and retrieved the small jewelry box. He snapped the lid open and held it out to John, mimicking a believer who was bringing offerings to a god as he kneeled in front of the armchair and waited for John`s reaction._

_"Sherlock... are these rings?"_

_Fuck, he should have said something, right? Sherlock`s hands trembled in nervousness as he searched for the words he had carefully prepared days ago, but he came up blank. "I... they are made of white gold and titan, so that they won`t break easily and you can even wear your ring at the clinic, without fearing that it will be damaged. On the inside of the ring, I have engraved the date of our first case as a... couple, but we can add something else to it, if you want... if you want the rings at all and what they entail... if you understand what they entail, that`s it. You can say No, of course, I won`t hold it against you, but... it would be great if you accepted them."_

_Sherlock clapped his mouth shut with a snap as he realised what he was rambling about and kept his eyes downcast to avoid meeting John`s gaze. If John had ever wanted to be with Sherlock in that way, then he had certainly made up his mind now, since Sherlock couldn`t imagine a poorer proposal than that._

_He bit his lip as John took the box from his hands, probably to examine the rings and then reached for Sherlock`s hand. Something cool slipped on his ring finger and blue eyes peeked up at John, who was putting one of the rings on Sherlock`s hand._

_"It`s beautiful," he murmured and Sherlock noticed the husky tone in his voice as these lovely brown eyes blinked at him. Trembling with nerves, Sherlock took the remaining ring and released a shuddering breath as John held out his hand to him, before putting the ring on John`s finger. It fitted perfectly, since Sherlock had given the jeweler John`s exact measurements, and he couldn`t help but stare at the band of gold and marvel at the promise it entailed._

_"Yes, I do," John whispered as he leaned forward to meet Sherlock`s lips for a gentle kiss. Sherlock had never been more happy in his whole life._

Moriarty`s game had started, before they had had the time to set a date for their wedding and Sherlock had needed to fake his own death in order to save John. He had made sure that his wedding ring was handed over to John, hoping that the day would come, when John would put it back on Sherlock`s finger. Then, he had returned and... his hopes had been shattered to pieces.

Mary Morstan had taken Sherlock`s place and nothing Sherlock did to win John back had been enough. Yes, John had forgiven him, after a lot of arguments and accusations, but nothing was the same anymore. Sherlock had believed that they would continue where they had left off, two years ago, when John had taken him to his bed - a couple of weeks after their reunion - but he had been wrong.

Sherlock sighed. The fantastic sex with John, had been followed by the worst disappointment, he had ever experienced.

_They were cuddling._

_Sherlock smiled as he snuggled against John`s side and buried his face in the crook of John`s shoulder. He had missed to be so close to John, had missed the touch of his gentle hands, the tender and passionate kisses and how John worshipped his body, when he made love to Sherlock._

_It had only been slightly different, that time, since it was hard - even for Sherlock - to stop certain memories of the past two years from surfacing. Memories of men, that weren`t John and only touched Sherlock to hurt him. Sherlock had only been able to relax, when John had _

_prepared and - finally - penetrated him, because he had wanted to feel as one with him so badly._

_And now, in the post-coital bliss, Sherlock was able to let go of the memories of his tormentors since his whole body had been marked by John again and it was only his touch that lingered on his skin now._

_"Sherlock," John`s voice was a mere whisper against his ear and he hummed contently at the way his name fell from the beloved lips. "I think we shouldn`t do that again. It`s... You are..." Sherlock didn`t wait for John to finish his sentence as he bolted from the bedroom and barely remembered to put some clothes on, before he fled from the flat._

Sherlock cringed at the memory. They had never spoken of that incident again, even after John had moved in at Baker Street 221B once more. They also didn`t sleep with each other, but kept their physical closeness restricted to kisses and gentle touches. Sherlock could have lived with that, as long as he could just pretend that Mary didn`t exist, he could endure being with John, without really _being _with him, but then...

John had started to talk about planning a wedding and Sherlock`s world had been shattered to pieces yet again. He didn`t ask John why he still stayed at the flat, when he planned to marry Mary and he neither pushed John away, when he kissed him. Sherlock knew that he was weak and he hated himself for it, but he would take everything he could get from John, especially since it appeared that nothing would be left for him all too soon.

"Sherlock?"

"Mhm?"

Irritated, Sherlock noticed that John was sitting on the spare space of the couch and was gazing worriedly down at him. He hadn`t noticed him moving, but that wasn`t entirely new, since Sherlock`s mind often wandered away these days, when he wasn`t careful.

"I have just talked to you for about ten minutes and you... didn`t hear anything of what I said, right?" Sherlock merely hummed his agreement and watched as John ran an agitated hand through his hair. "I wanted to know if you think it`s a good idea to put Greg and Mycroft next to each other at the table or if it is going to lead to complications."

Usually, Sherlock would have pointed out that these few words couldn`t have been everything John had talked to him about, but this time something else got his attention. "You have even invited Mycroft to the wedding."

Brown eyes blinked down at him in confusion. "Yes, of course, he is..."

"And you also invited Lestrade, Molly, Donovan and..._Anderson_," Sherlock spat the last word as if the name was something disgusting to him. It was, stupidity had always made him want to retch.

"Well, Molly and Greg are the witnesses and Donovan can be nice if she wants to and I just couldn`t leave Anderson out..."

"But me."

John`s brow wrinkled in confusion as he stared down at Sherlock. "What are you talking about?"

Sherlock sat up abruptly, not wanting to have a discussion while lying on his back and having to look up at John to see his reactions. "You haven`t invited me. Don`t pretend otherwise," Sherlock interrupted as John opened his mouth to deny it. "I have taken a look at the sitting arrangements and my name doesn`t appear anywhere."

A laugh echoed through the room as John regarded him with sparkling eyes as if Sherlock had just told a fantastic joke. Hurt clenched Sherlock`s heart together and made him lash out at John, who was amusing himself on his expense. "I understand that you haven`t asked me to be your best man, after... everything that has happened, but it`s rather cowardly of you to not invite me to your wedding at all. Are you afraid that I would ridicule you or tell your wife what we used to do in bed? Or," Sherlock started and hated himself for the way his voice cracked at these words. "Do you want to make sure that I get the hint and never bother you again after you have started your perfect, little family?"

Silence greeted his words.

Sherlock clenched his fists in his lap as he stared at the floor and waited for John to tell him that his last assumption was correct. That he had only stayed with Sherlock out of a sense of duty and for old time`s sake and that whatever had survived of their former relationship would die as soon as John had signed his name on the wedding form.

"Sherlock, please look at me." John didn`t sound angry or cruel, but rather worried as he touched Sherlock`s shoulder gently, as if afraid that he would break if he grabbed him harder. Taking a deep breath and gathering the rest of his courage, Sherlock turned his head to meet John`s worried gaze.

"You really mean it, right? You truly believe that I`m going to marry... whom?"

"Mary," Sherlock replied helpfully, not understanding what kind of game John was playing now. He should know who he would be leading down the aisle in a fortnight.

"Mary, of course, Mary," John murmured to himself as he stared down in his lap, before fixing his gaze on Sherlock once more. "Listen Sherlock, I don`t know how you got that idea in your head, but it certainly explains why you are acting so strangely and I already wondered why you didn`t want to help with the planning of the wedding, although you were all for it, when we...

"Don`t!" Sherlock interrupted him warningly. "Don`t speak about it!" It hurt too much to remember how much he had wanted to plan the perfect wedding ceremony. Sherlock had already created the layout of the invitation cards and designed the cake, when Moriarty had returned. Sherlock had still had the time to make a list of the guests he wanted at their wedding, before everything had gone down the drain. There was still an unfinished composition that he had started to write for the opening of the dance. He had wanted to show John how to waltz and go shopping with him for a suit, but...

"You can`t expect me to plan your wedding, when we planned to exchange vows once. Everyone might think that I don`t have any emotions, but I thought that you knew better. That you of all people..." Sherlock took a deep breath and clenched his fists even harder as he felt a humiliating, burning sensation in his eyes. He hadn`t cried when Moriarty`s men had had their wicked way with him. Only tears of anger had run down his cheeks when they had peeled the flesh from his bones with their whips. Sherlock hadn`t allowed them to break him, because his love for John had given him the strength to endure everything, but now... there seemed to be nothing left to hold him together.

He felt the couch dip as John moved and stood up. Sherlock didn`t look up as he heard John going to his bedroom and then starting to rummage through the papers on the kitchen table. Sherlock was concentrating on taking deep breaths around the scaling pain in his chest. It would have been better if he had died, Sherlock realised as John uttered a scream of triumph and turned back towards the couch. At least then, Sherlock would have found death while still believing that John loved him. It would have been terrible never to return to John, but Sherlock wouldn`t have had to endure that pain of losing his beloved to someone else.

"Sherlock, please take a look." Never able to deny John anything, even if it meant ripping his own heart out of his chest, Sherlock glanced at the piece of paper that was held out to him. It took some time, until the information, it revealed, registered in his mind. The wedding invitation... _their _wedding invitation. Sherlock couldn`t stop the trembling of his hands as he took it from John and stared at the front of it.

_John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are getting married._

_You are invited if you dare coming._

The shades of two men were printed underneath the text. They stood back to back and their hands were intertwined around the handle of a gun, which was pointed at the recipient of the invitation. It was the printed version of the sketch Sherlock had made, when he had still believed that there would be a wedding. He had to lean his head back and blink up at the ceiling to stop his tears from falling. John must have found his sketch and printed it, because...

"You are cruel, John."

"And you are an idiot and I should have noticed it sooner. You can blame me all you like for my lack of observation skills later." Before Sherlock could formulate a reply to these cryptic words, a small box was pressed into his hands and Sherlock knew without looking at it that it was _his_ box. The one, he had used as he proposed to John and put a ring on his finger. Gulping, Sherlock opened the lid and stared down at their wedding rings sitting in satin and reminding him of what he had lost.

"I only wanted to bring them out at the ceremony, but...

"No!"

Sherlock closed the lid and pressed the box with the rings against his chest, feeling his heart hammering in his ribcage as he fought against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. These rings were John`s and his, he wouldn`t allow him to put one of them on Mary`s finger. It would kill him to see it there to know that it should have been his... that it had been his and...

"Breathe, Sherlock! For Christ`s sake, breathe!"

Hands touched him, pushing and drawing at him, until Sherlock found himself lying on the couch once more. Sideways this time, with his head bedded in John`s lap and a reassuring hand pressing against his chest. Spots danced in front of his eyes and his head swam as Sherlock tried to get up.

"Stay," John warned him and increased the pressure against his chest to keep Sherlock in the lying position. They kept silent, but Sherlock knew that John would be the first to break the silence this time. He knew - without looking up - that John was wetting his lips right now and preparing himself for whatever he wanted to say. Sherlock was right.

"I understand that you think Mary and I are going to get married." Sherlock didn`t even deem that worth a reply. "I don`t really know how you got that idea," John continued carefully. "I had a date with Mary - the second one - when you returned. At the same evening, I told her that it wouldn`t work out between us, because I still loved you, although you had acted like a real bastard."

Sherlock got very still at these words. Hope started to bloom in his heart, where nothing should be able to grow anymore as he entertained the thought that he had been wrong - completely and utterly wrong. Still, there was too much doubt to allow the tender seed of hopefulness to grow. Even the ancient Greeks had known that hope would be the weapon against the evils in Pandora`s box as well as their doom if they didn`t handle it carefully. "But you... you don`t sleep with me anymore, you spent time with Mary and you started to plan the wedding out of the blue and..."

A finger against his lips silenced Sherlock as John`s other hand started to massage his scalp. "I spend time with Mary, because she still is a friend. Things hadn`t progressed so far that there are any hard feelings between us and I didn`t start to plan the wedding out of the blue. I asked you if our plans - about the ceremony - were still on and you said yes, although," Sherlock felt John`s chest heave with a sigh. "I probably shouldn`t have asked you while you were busy with an experiment. You probably only caught half of what I said - if at all - but it`s still a mystery to me how you managed to make yourself believe that Mary and I would get married."

Brown eyes glanced down at him, but Sherlock didn`t trust his voice not to crack if he answered and after a pause, John continued. "I won`t pretend that I would have never looked for a partner again, but Mary was the first one I dated, since you... went away. Have you really believed that I could just exchange you for someone else? I fucking love you, Sherlock! That would have never changed, you would have had a special - a large - place in my heart, no matter what. Although I wanted to kill you, when you appeared again after making me believe that you were dead, I never stopped loving you! I`ll never stop loving you, you idiot!"

Against his better judgment, Sherlock`s heart swelled with hope at these words. John was speaking the truth. Sherlock would have been able to deduce if he had been lying, but John had yet to answer why he hadn`t made love to Sherlock again. He glanced up at John, urging him to give him this last piece of knowledge and after biting his lip for some time, John obeyed. "I was afraid to make love to you again," he admitted quietly all the while running his hand through Sherlock`s curls. "You were so fragile and vulnerable when I touched you that one night. You turned pale and tensed up when I penetrated you and I thought... what did they do to you, Sherlock?"

"What do you think they did?" Sherlock couldn`t bring himself to say the words, to recall those memories, which had only started fading, when John had made tender love to him.

The hand against his chest tightened as John took a deep shuddering breath. "These monsters! These fucking monsters, how could they..."

A sob hitched in John`s chest and when Sherlock looked up again, it was to tears running down John`s cheeks. The tears, Sherlock wasn`t able to cry. "John, please," Sherlock begged helplessly. "It`s over, I... your touch helped me. When you made love to me, you healed me and when... when you said that we shouldn`t..."

It was hopeless. Sherlock grinded his teeth in frustration. He had never been good at verbalizing his feelings and he was failing at it yet again, when it was so important that he made John understand that...

"Oh God, I screwed it up, didn`t I?!" John`s voice was laced with frustration as he shook his head and bent forward to press a gentle kiss to Sherlock`s forehead. "I wanted to do the right - the decent - thing and I fucked it up. I`m an idiot! I should have forced you to talk about everything, when I noticed that you were completely out of it and instead I pretended that everything was fine, because I assumed that was what you wanted and... Oh Shit!"

The rambling didn`t make much sense, but Sherlock gathered from it that John blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong between them the last couple of months and... Sherlock furrowed his brow as he considered John`s statement that he had been out of it of sorts. He didn`t want to admit it, but he was too self-aware to deny that John was right. Mycroft had given him a list of specialists, that would help him to cope with his trauma and in review, Sherlock considered that it might have been a good idea to hire one of them, but back then he hadn`t wanted any help.

His torturers had visited him, every night in his dreams and sometimes even in his waking hours, even when Sherlock had been working on an experiment or investigating a case. He must have missed a few important pieces of information, but Sherlock had never dreamed about misinterpreting whom John wanted to marry. "We are both idiots, John," he finally murmured and was rewarded with another kiss, this time to his right cheekbone. "Yes, although I admit that it must have been hard for you to realize that you are going to sit were I have written _bridal couple_ on the plan, when Mary is supposed to sit next to Anderson."

The first real smile for days turned Sherlock`s lips upwards at these words. "Are you sure you like Mary, if you place her next to..."

"Oh, shut up!"

Another kiss, pressed to his lips, had the desired effect, but Sherlock still grinned up at John. His heart felt as light as never before.

"Do you still want the wedding to take place in two weeks or do you want to postpone it?"

"And risk that you come to your senses?" Sherlock teased him. "No, it`s going to take place as planned and I`m looking for someone to bake the cake and maybe even make an appointment with a therapist... Oh don`t look like that, John!" Sherlock rolled his eyes at his baffled expression. "I might not be fond of them, but I also don`t want to risk that I miss something as important as my upcoming wedding again, just because my mind is occupied with... other things. Don`t worry, I`ll fire them as soon as I`m able to delete the most irritating memories."

A laugh, which was half a sob, tumbled from John`s lips and Sherlock was fast to sit up and kiss the sound away.

"But now, I guess it`s time that we practice for our wedding night." Sherlock prepared himself for forthcoming protests, but nothing like that emerged from John`s mouth as he closed his arms around Sherlock and started to kiss every part of Sherlock`s face, pushing him back on the couch at the same time.

OOO

The first sounds of the wedding dance echoed through the hall as Mycroft started playing the violin. Sherlock had had to bring himself to ask his brother to play the composition, that he had finished in time for the ceremony, but Sherlock had yet to regret it. His brother wasn`t as good as he was - obviously - but he was the best player, besides himself and Sherlock hadn`t wanted an amateur to ruin his piece of music. He had expected that Mycroft was going to ask a favor of him for it, but his brother had obviously been too startled, when Sherlock had asked him to play for them and announced that he would get a therapist at the same time, to come up with anything smart.

"May I," Sherlock extended his hand to John - his husband - and smiled when he accepted the offer.

The last couple of weeks had been exhausting, with planning the wedding, temper tantrums - from Sherlock, after firing the first six therapists right away - and teaching John how to dance.

Sometimes, when everything became too much, Sherlock had wondered if it was a good idea to bother with such a large ceremony. After all, he had never imagined that it could be so hard to get John to choose a decent suit for the wedding or that they would argue about the cake for days.

Sherlock spared it a glance in passing. Molly had helped the poor baker with the preparation. The forged fingers, eyeballs and ears - made of marzipan - looked very realistic on the five-storied cake. The fifth story was free of any fake body parts, instead the figures of two men - in black suits - adorned it. They held a gun like the shapes on the invitation cards did and looked like they would take down everyone, who got into their way. The inscription on the forefront of the cake - _Till Death Do Us Part - _was rather fitting, from Sherlock`s point of view. Personally, he wouldn`t have bothered with the figures on the top story, but John had threatened that he would make sure that Molly didn`t design the fake body parts, if they weren`t added and so... Sherlock had accepted the compromise.

Just as he had agreed to reveal the dark memories of the past two years to John, after it had looked like there wasn`t any competent therapist out there. Even now, after he had found one - Doctor Goldberg, a middle-aged woman, who was able to listen without adding any pseudo-competent bullshit - Sherlock would still talk to John about his experiences. He wouldn`t have thought it possible, but it helped to confide in John - his husband - and be enfolded in strong arms, when an especially dark episode rendered Sherlock shaken and vulnerable. His mind was working better again as well. Sherlock didn`t get distracted by his traumatic experiences too often anymore. He still scolded himself for making the misassumption about John`s wedding plans, but as John was already starting to tease him about it, Sherlock was sure that he would overcome that mistake as well.

It was more urgent to bring it to John`s attention that he wasn`t made of glass and didn`t need to be cuddled in bed, although Sherlock rather enjoyed their slow lovemaking... but not on every occasion. He had plans to get that point across in their wedding night, but for now Sherlock had more important matters to take care of. Sherlock led John to the floor, accompanied by the applause of their guests and interlaced their hands.

"You lead," John whispered against his ear and Sherlock merely chuckled at that. He had cured John - his husband - from murdering his feet with every step, but John would never be a good dancer, but Sherlock didn`t mind in the least as he started to move them to the sounds of their very own wedding dance.

The golden bands on their fingers sparkled with every step as they waltzed through the hall, proofing to everyone that they belonged together.


End file.
